


The Best Laid Plans

by Lykegenia



Category: Green Rider Series - Kristen Britain
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Mutual Pining, Royal Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-17
Updated: 2009-04-17
Packaged: 2018-05-19 05:02:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5954596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lykegenia/pseuds/Lykegenia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karigan is a Green Rider, bound by magic and duty to carry messages to the people - even if she doesn't like what they contain. Zachary is the King, and he must marry Lady Estora or face the possibility of dividing his country just when it desperately needs to stand united. Fate decrees they must play their parts, for the sake of Sacoridia. Fate, however, will often twist in the least expected ways, if you can make the most of the opportunity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. On The Road to Corsa

Karigan urged Condor out of his lazy walk and into a brisk canter. Already the lofty spires of Corsa's highest buildings were rising above the lush green trees that lined the Kingway. She was familiar with the sight, having travelled this path many times as a merchant's daughter helping her father with his wagon trains. Already there was the salty tang of sea air on the breeze. Karigan grinned. She was almost home.

Yet there was still something to dampen her mood. The messages that sat snug in the satchel embossed with the symbol of the winged horse should have been ordinary, and for all the other Riders carrying them they were. But for Karigan, they burned.

About a week before, every available Rider had been sent forth from the castle with _invitations_. Specifically, wedding invitations to the royal nuptial celebrations of King Zachary Hillander and his Queen-to-be, Lady Estora Coutre. The man Karigan loved. The woman who, once her best friend, was now separated from her by a sea of some self-pitying jealousy she couldn't quite define. The date had finally been set for the Summer Solstice, the most portentous date in the calendar, according to the moon priests. 

And it was the Riders’ jobs to bear the letters to the great and good across the provinces.

But part of Karigan was relieved about the mission, too. Since becoming Rider _Sir_ Karigan, she had been invited to balls and garden parties and outings for the nobility. The only one she hadn't had an excuse for avoiding had been a nightmare. It had been filled with soft-spined, pampered nobles who had begged for her version of Lady Estora's rescue only to coo and titter over how brave she was. Slightly patronisingly, Karigan had thought. And presiding over it all had been Zachary, sat on his throne with his silver fillet resting on his amber hair, watching everything. Lady Estora sat at his side, resplendent as always. Through the heat of the dancing and the confusing crush of bodies, Karigan's eyes couldn't help but trail up to the dais, no matter how hard she commanded them not to. And every time she did glance that way, King Zachary's eyes were always fixed on her.

That had been bad enough, but then he had stood, and came over to her as boldly as court decorum would allow, and requested a dance. One could hardly refuse the King, and the request had come so unexpectedly, and with such a burning gaze, that Karigan had been stunned into accepting. They had waltzed around the floor, Karigan's cheeks flaming crimson. He was so close. His eyes were so intense and regretful, his arms so strong around her, that for a few moments she forgot everything but his presence. It was intoxicating. Then the music stopped and the world fell back into place. She was a commoner, a Green Rider in Green Rider formal uniform, dancing with the King. And he was slightly too close for it to be proper.

Karigan shook the memory from her mind. It wouldn't do to be thinking about it now. “Come on Condor, if we get there soon we can have some lunch before we leave again.” 

The good thing about being on an errand was that it was the perfect excuse to stay away from the castle –and Zachary. And she had been on a lot recently. She had scarcely got back from Arey Province before Captain Mapstone had sent her to carry out this new mission. She was beginning to suspect Captain Mapstone was deliberately trying to keep her away.

Condor whinnied suddenly and the marble entrance gates of Corsa came into view, the huge arch framed with statues of those who had built the city. Karigan put everything else out of her mind and let the wind carry the last of her cares away. After all, Corsa was home.


	2. In The Tower

Stood up on the castle turrets, there was nobody to interfere – no nobles, no administrators, no Laren Mapstone breathing disapprovingly down his neck. Zachary found it slightly annoying, and not a little ironic, that the only refuge he could find within his own walls was the roof.

He sighed, looking out over the city, so small and untroubled by the politics that so caged him. They were probably all looking forward to the royal wedding that would take place in just a few short days. The entire kingdom would take a day's holiday in celebration of the event, and the peasantry always did love an excuse to have a party. It was a shame their king wasn't in so jubilant a mood.

Was it really to be so soon? Zachary could see all along the Winding Way garlands of flowers and decorations being lined for the procession that would meander its way to the heart of the city. In the castle, every corridor was permeated with the smells of cooking and crowded with pages scurrying here and there on final, last minute errands.

The Weapon, Willis, shifted slightly in the shadow he was occupying. The King turned back to his view.

Beyond the city, already being encircled by a newly commissioned wall (D'yer work, of course), lay the Green Cloak, stretching as far as the horizon, and many horizons beyond, containing so many unseen hazards: brigands, wild beasts, members of Second Empire. The thought of such shadows made him tremble.

Karigan was out there, delivering messages penned by him or at least on his orders. Every day he came up here, just for a few moments, to get away from the court, to feel the breeze in his hair, but most importantly to scan the treeline for her figure emerging along the road. And every day he left with a burdened heart, because he couldn't stand not knowing how she was, and every day she didn't return was another day that he might have killed her. The woman he loved.

These were not thoughts a king should be having before his wedding.

Movement on the edge of the Green Cloak caught his attention. A figure in green, riding an ungainly animal at an easy canter, came into the sunlight. Zachary pulled out his telescope from a pocket and focussed it on the Rider. Thank the Gods, it was Karigan, none the worse for wear save a little bit muddy and tired. His heart leapt to see her face.

He turned away with reluctance. That far off glimpse would probably be the last time he would see his love's face before his wedding. It wouldn't do to dwell. He was the King, and his duty lay to his kingdom, even if he had to sacrifice his heart for that ideal.

“Come, Willis, we will return to the vultures,” the King sighed, descending the steps to the apartments below. As he walked, the feelings that were so much a part of him sloughed off his back like plumage plucked from an eagle; they had no place in the life he was about to enter into.


	3. Through The Garden

"Lord Governor L'Petrie, Clan Chiefs Samerson and Ruber, and Lord and Lady Garcen all reply that they would be happy to attend, Sire," Karigan said, in her best messenger's voice. She stood, hands clasped behind her back, polished boots shoulder-width apart, staring at a point that may or may not have been about a foot to the left of the King's ear. Usually she would meet the King's gaze head on, but it was only three days until the… event… and Karigan found she couldn't handle the weight of his eyes any more. So she stared a foot to the left of his ear.

"Unfortunately," she continued, "Lord Coran's second son is ill with severe fever, and he and Lady Coran couldn't possibly leave him. They hope you will understand, Sire; their boy is only seven years old."

"But of course. I understand their concern completely," the King replied, though it was rather pointless. Karigan thought he meant more by that sentence than he was letting on, but she didn't dare dwell on the possibility.

She cleared her throat. "If that will be all, Sire," she said, bowing and turning to leave.

"Wait, Rider," the King commanded. Karigan froze. One did not disobey the King.

"Tell me of your journey." There was definitely something hidden in that, something dangerous. For an instant, Karigan wasn't sure if she should answer, but there was an almost imperceptible nod from Captain Mapstone.

"My journey was ... uneventful, Sire," she said cautiously. She could see out of the corner of her eye that he frowned, as if that hadn't been the answer he was hoping for. Well, she wasn't going to be goaded into conversation that easily.

"Come, Rider," he replied almost immediately. "You once told me I should be more aware of my kingdom and my subjects. Tell me, for example, the state of the Kingway." The King's tone was light and airy, but she knew he was trying to bring back memories of their first meeting over two years before. Karigan's face flushed, and her ire rose to the surface. She snapped her eyes to the King's for the first time since she had entered the throne room, and they were full of anger.

"The Kingway is passable. Your Highness’s foresters have worked hard to clear the debris from the winter storms, and many merchants are grateful for the ease of their journey. But as I recall, Sire," she added coolly, with all the politick her aunts had tried to drum into her, "I told you to _see_ your kingdom. Perhaps you may do so on your wedding tour."

The King blinked on his throne, his careful mask slipping slightly. _Good_ , Karigan thought, _maybe he'll remember now that he is soon to be a husband_. The thought did not give comfort, and her sense of triumph was soon quashed. When nobody said anything further, Captain Mapstone motioned for her to go, her face bearing the dark expression that warned Karigan she was in for a tongue-lashing later. One did not speak to the King in that manner, after all.

With a slight incline of the head, Karigan left the throne room, striding out with the gaze of Weapons following her movements from the alcoves. Her merchant's pride kept her head back and the tears at bay until well beyond the castle corridors. She fled to the nearest safe place, the gardens, where the scent of summer roses and honeysuckle might calm her.

This was _terrible!_ She wondered how her life could get any worse. She was stuck a commoner, a mere Green Rider, and the man she loved, the King of Sacoridia, no less, was going to be married to somebody else in a mere two days. Oh, how she loathed Lady Estora Coutre for that. Yet that made her feel even worse, because up until the engagement, Estora had been her friend. _What a mess!_ The King hadn't helped matters either, trying to get her to talk to him like that. Why couldn't he just let her get on with her life instead of trying to engage her every time they happened to be in the same room?

A small meow by her elbow made Karigan look up with a sniff. The tomb cat looked strangely out of place here in the bright sunshine, squinting slightly as if the light was too bright.

"What are you doing out here, Lil?" she asked with some surprise. The cat, affectionately named for the First Rider because of her habits of hovering in unexpected places and her tenacity with the castle's mice, only meowed again, and shoved her head up under Karigan's hand, purring.

The Rider sighed, picking Lil up and cradling her to her chest. The cat merely purred louder and snuggled against Karigan in the most un-catlike fashion. It made her break down in tears again.

"Oh, Lil, what am I going to do!" She might as well have asked the First Rider herself, for all the reply she got. Her first instinct was to saddle Condor and gallop as far away as possible from all of this, into the cool woods where she could fade out and stay invisible forever. Her special ability had come easier to her since the summer, since she had gained bleary memories of the dead rising and an unearthly black stallion walking on white plain. It didn't pain her so much.

"Hello?" came a voice from around the corner of the path. Karigan knew that voice. Estora. She was stepping closer, cautiously, following on the heels of Fastion, who was presently guarding her life.

"Wait here, My Lady," he instructed in a low voice, before gliding over in the manner particular to Weapons. Karigan faded out with only the merest thought, dragging Lil into the grey world with her, though the cat still shone white against her dulled sleeve. Fastion must have seen her the second before she disappeared, taken in the tear-streaked cheeks and red eyes, because he nodded and turned back to his charge.

"Your concern is unfounded, My Lady," he said. "There is nobody there."

"Really? I could have sworn –"

Karigan didn't stay to hear the rest of the sentence; she ran through the castle corridors, still faded out, still holding the cat, until she reached her room in the Rider Wing and dropped on her bed, exhausted from using her special ability and from the events of the day. She curled up with her back to the door, not wanting to see anyone, and not noticing she was still wearing her highly polished parade boots.


	4. Before The Worst

Laren was absolutely furious. Not necessarily with Karigan, although anyone else speaking to King Zachary in that manner would have been immediately clapped in irons, but with Zachary himself. Gods! What was she going to do with him! Only three days until he would be married to Lady Estora, and here he was trying to court one of  _her_ Riders! It had been a while since she had wanted to throttle him this badly. At least Karigan had kept her head and not made puppy eyes at the King, which would certainly have led to an outright refusal to marry. Now she was following Zachary down the luxurious corridors that led to his private apartments, trying to guess what he was thinking. She knew he was agitated, she could tell by the vigorous pace he was setting, and she had a fair idea what was occupying his mind.

"Leave us," he almost barked at the servants when they entered his study. Morris, the Weapon, was the last to leave to stand guard outside the door as the King collapsed into a chair and rubbed his hands over his brow. He looked almost wild with anxiety, and Laren, ever the big sister, was moved to pity, even though the rational side of her knew siding with him in this could mean disaster.

"I can't do it, Laren," he said after a few moments. "I can't go through with this." He looked close to tears.

Laren said nothing, unsure how to proceed.

"I didn't think it would be this hard, but faced now with the point of no return…" he glanced at the Rider Captain. "I can't stop thinking about her."

To hide the thin line her mouth had become, Laren went over to the cabinet where Zachary kept decanted brandy and glasses, and poured some before handing it to him. He took it almost numbly, lost in thought.

"Rider Sir G'ladheon," Laren ventured to guess.

"Use her name," Zachary insisted. "Please."

"Karigan," Laren said obediently, against her better judgement.

"Karigan," he repeated, swirling the brandy in his glass. It was of the finest quality, the tumber from the glassmakers of Oldbury Province, and the liquor from the oak barrels of Bairdly. Made by people with utmost love for their craft. It was a similar affection that flowered in Zachary's voice when he said the name of her Rider. Laren couldn't help but feel a certain amount of irritation towards whichever of the gods controlled Fate. Under any other circumstance, she might have been satisfied – if not entirely happy – to see Karigan and Zachary together. But these were troubled times; with the threat of Second Empire present at every turn, and the chance that Mornhavon the Black could return any day, the worst thing for the King to do would be to alienate the Eastern Lord Governors.

"I love her, Laren," Zachary said after a silence of several moments. The Rider Captain didn't need the use of her special ability to know he spoke the truth, but in this situation, truth was the opposite of what was needed. Laren needed to dissuade the King from foolish action before any such thought entered his head.

"What is the use of your love if she does not return it?" she asked, almost harshly.

"I know she does, I've seen it in her," replied Zachary, although the tone of his voice implied that it was more wishful thinking than known fact. Unfortunately, Laren knew it was true. "I just wish she would show it – some sign of affection to know my regard is requited."

So that was what he had been doing with Karigan in the throne room, trying to get her to show her true feelings for him. It had been a cunning tactic, but it infuriated Laren even more.

"She hasn't replied to your letters," she said by way of trying to impress upon him Karigan's lack of regard. She failed to mention that this was because she had burned every last one of them, both in the interests of the Kingdom and to spare the feelings of one of her Riders. Karigan didn't need any reminders of what she could never have.

"I suppose not," the King said, his voice faint.

Laren pressed her advantage. "Zachary, there are so many things that would separate you even if we were not on the brink of what we now face," she said softly. She knelt down beside him and touched his arm. "As it is, Sacoridia cannot afford to be split by civil war. You've said yourself we need to present a united front when Mornhavon returns. Your marriage to Lady Estora will ensure the loyalty of Lord Coutre and the other eastern provinces."

"There has to be another way," he muttered.

"There isn't," she replied firmly.

Silence dampened Zachary's study. Eventually he rose, and, pleading tiredness, bade Laren to leave. She knew it was more that she had so strongly told him the exact opposite of what he had wanted to hear, and that already the resolution that had formed in his eyes at his final words was putting into gear his brilliant political mind, trying to find an escape clause somewhere. Failure wasn't a feeling Laren was comfortable with, much less the feeling that she had somehow made the situation  _worse_. She offered up a quick prayer to Aeron before marching from the Royal Wing towards Rider barracks in the other side of the castle.

Alone at last, Zachary had room to break down completely. He felt more tired than he had ever been in his life, more tried and tortured. What he wanted was so near to him, separated by a mere few stone walls, and yet so far out of his reach that he might as well be trying to grasp at the stars. Why couldn't he have what he wanted, just for once, and Sacoridia be hanged? With time counting down to the wedding, he had become increasingly morose, and resigned to his fate.

"There must be a way," he repeated again to himself. The talk with Laren had given him new determination. He would find a way to break the wedding contract and still keep Lord Coutre's loyalty, or else be wed with the knowledge that he had gone down fighting. It was a grim ultimatum, but Zachary was in a corner, and this was the only way he could see of getting out of it.

All this time he had been pacing his inner chamber, and the walls were starting to close in. He couldn't think in this stifling place. Making the decision, he removed the silver fillet still resting on his amber hair, donned his blue longcoat, and swept out of his rooms. He followed no particular path, but let his feet go where they willed, always followed by Morris, and always trying to figure out a plan.

He had reached the other side of the castle by the time he saw something to make him pause. The sun shone lazily down on the courtyard below, and from his vantage point, Zachary saw something that could, with the right touches, kill his two birds with one stone.


	5. Under Surveillance

Estora had come to the gardens to get some fresh air. They were so lovely at this time of year, with all the birds singing in the sun and the bees humming lazily from one stand of sweetly scented flowers to the next. It was practically perfect. It had in fact been somewhere here that King Zachary had formally proposed to her, his voice its usual steady calm and his hazel eyes gazing levelly at her as he murmured the words. But there had been no ardent passion behind his speech.

Estora sighed. She had come here to get away from talks of weddings and engagements and Zachary. Out here, in the sunshine, she felt normal – minus her Weapon shadow, of course – and she could almost pretend that she wasn't the queen-to-be of Sacoridia, and that she was back in the past before when her beloved F'ryan was still alive. Ladies-in-waiting and fussing cousins could become such a bore so easily, especially now so close to  _The Big Day_ , as her mother liked to call it. Estora could hear her perfectly inside her mind, positively glowing about the prestige her daughter was going to bring to clan Coutre.  _Just imagine, royal heirs bearing Coutre blood!_  That was, after all, the reason Zachary was marrying her. He needed an heir, and favour with her father.

A small sparrow hopped insignificantly a few feet from where Estora was standing, and she watched it enviously as it pecked among the leaf litter, unconcerned by her. If only she could be so free, so plain, she might have been able to bypass being so obvious a political pawn. Had she not grown up with the knowledge that she would one day be marrying for alliance with her family, she might have revolted against the idea.

A sound startled the sparrow away. It sounded to Estora like sobbing. Ever sympathetic to the needs of others, she started forward, motioning to Fastion.

"I think there's somebody in there," she muttered to her guard. She took a step forward. "Hello?"

"Wait here, My Lady," Fastion instructed, blocking her path, and the path of any hostile intention towards his charge. Without another sound he swept up the path and round the corner until he was lost behind a large rose bush. Estora waited nervously.

"Your concern is unfounded, My Lady," he informed her upon his return. "There is nobody there."

"I could have sworn –" right at that moment, something brushed roughly past her shoulder, almost knocking her aside. When she looked, nothing could be seen, except maybe a swish of green which may have just been a reflection of the myriad plants surrounding her. Fastion wore a look of slight grievance, but seemed not to have noticed whatever it was that had knocked her, which struck Estora as unusual for a Weapon.

Dismissing it as unimportant, Estora sat on the marble bench that had recently been unoccupied, once again alone with her thoughts. She sat like that for an interminable length of time, just soaking up the sun and the scents on the breeze. They calmed her. Absently, she wondered how Fastion, in his black uniform, could stand the heat, but then she supposed standing in the shade would help somewhat.

Her reflective mood was interrupted by somebody  _whistling_  up the path. She could hear boots crunching crisply on the gravel, pausing every now and then, and she imagined their owner stopping to sniff a particularly fragrant bloom or gaze upon a rare specimen of bumblebee.

By and by, around the corner came Lord Amberhill, strolling along as if he had no care in the world, and obviously in a better frame of mind than Estora. His blissful ignorance was punctuated a moment later, however, when Fastion detached himself from his shadow and blocked Amberhill's path. The lord simply smiled at the Weapon.

"Good day to you, Weapon… er… Farris, isn't it?"

"Fastion, My Lord," the Weapon corrected, not showing the slightest hint of annoyance that Lord Amberhill had got his name wrong.

"Well, Fastion, and who are we guarding today?" the roguish noble inquired, trying to peer round Fastion's shoulder.

"He's guarding me, My Lord," Estora smiled from her seat, hiding a small chuckle. "Forgive Fastion, he gets rather zealous occasionally."

Taking this as confirmation that Lord Amberhill was not in fact an intruder, Fastion settled back into his shadow, murmuring a brief apology for disturbing the noble's stroll.

"Not at all, not at all." Lord Amberhill waved him away. "But perhaps next time you would care to remember that most assassins do not whistle. It tends to give the game away," he added, with a wink in Estora's direction. She couldn't help but stifle a laugh and he beamed at her.

"If I may, My Lady?" he checked, gesturing to the seat beside her.

"Of course."

With another smile, he sat down a respectful distance from the queen-to-be, and turned to her attentively. Estora brushed off the sudden urge for him to be closer, and gave him a small smile instead.

"Now, My Lady, may I ask what's wrong?" Lord Amberhill said after a short pause.

Estora was shocked that he had discovered her mood so easily. "What makes you think anything is wrong?" she asked cautiously.

"My dear Lady," Lord Amberhill replied. "When one is at court, one must learn to observe those around one, and to read the emotions of one's fellows." She got the strangest idea that he was mocking her. "I mean no disrespect, of course," he added.

"Of course not." She looked away bashfully, twisting a crease in her dress between her fingers, something her mother would never approve of. Should she tell him what was on her mind?

"In truth, My Lord, I just came for a walk to get away from the closeness of being indoors." It was true enough. "My mother –"

"Ah yes," nodded Lord Amberhill wisely. "The female relatives. I suppose they are all 'in a tizz', as my father used to say, about the Royal Nuptials?" There was that mockery again.

"Indeed, My Lord. And a few I overheard in a most excited state – they were apparently visited by the Raven Mask last night, and had their most priceless family jewels stolen from their very bedchambers." Estora allowed herself a smirk at the silliness of young girls. Then it saddened, remembering how F'ryan had once used to sneak into her chambers in the same fashion.

"So the Raven Mask strikes again?" Lord Amberhill inquired with amusement, an amusement Estora couldn't place. "He gets around a bit, doesn't he?" And already he was planning his next raid, even as he sat there with the innocent queen-to-be.

"It seems so, My Lord," came Estora's laughing reply. He always managed to make her laugh.

He turned to her, his face now serious. "If I may be so bold, My Lady," he began, "Could I trouble you to call me by my first name? We have met so often on walks and talked that I think we are practically friends. And friends often call each other by name."

Estora blushed. The request was innocent enough, but there was something else in his eyes, something more earnest, that made her think that he thought of her in a way completely different to that of a friend.

And suddenly a sense of daring rose up in her heart. Her wedding may be only three days away, but until then, she was free to flirt with whomsoever she chose. Taking a breath, feeling more like a young girl than she had since F'ryan's death, she beamed at Amberhill.

"Very well," she said. "I will do as you ask – on one condition."

"Anything, My Lady," Amberhill assured her, the playful spark back in his voice.

"Come closer, I need to whisper it," was the coy instruction. Amberhill did as her was told, and she held in a giggle as she whispered in his ear, "Call me Estora."

"That is a bold request," he said with mock seriousness. "Is it wise to be speaking in that way with certain shadows around?" He motioned to Fastion behind him, standing anonymously out of the way.

"Weapons have no eyes or ears for an innocent request," Estora replied. "After all, you said we were friends."

Amberhill laughed. "In that case, Estora, I grant you your request."

"And I yours, Xandis." She hadn't expected the small thrill that went up her spine when his name came from her lips. Amberhill must have seen it, for he grinned wickedly.

"I must be off now," he said, abruptly standing. "I'm afraid I have important business to attend to. Be assured though, I enjoyed our little chat  _immensely_." And with a graceful sweep of his arm, he bowed, and took her hand to brush it briefly against his lips. "Until next time, Estora."

Then he was gone, with only the light in his grey eyes lingering. Estora looked after him, with a wistfulness she had thought she never would feel again. As well, of course, as her anger at being left so abruptly.  _How dare he!_  Even so, as she gently touched her fingers to the echo Xandis had left on her skin, and resisted the urge to press the back of her hand to her own lips, she realised just how much trouble she was in. Finding love three days before being wed to somebody else was not the smartest of ideas.

With a sigh that now encompassed more melancholy than it had when she had started on her walk, the queen-to-be beckoned to her Weapon to slowly trail up the garden path and back to her anxious family.

* * *

 

From the window above, Zachary had seen everything, including the way that Lord Xandis Amberhill had doubled back to watch Lady Estora as she glided away, her head bowed in mournful contemplation. So, his future bride had formed an attachment, that was clear enough to see. The look on her face as he had left was the same as the one he sometimes let slip when Karigan was running away from him.

Zachary Hillander looked from one to the other, a plan forming in his mind. He needed to make sure of everything, however, before he acted upon it. There was such a small chance, but it was kindling the hope within him higher every second. Had he not been King, he might even have broken out into a broad grin. As it was, he almost ran back to his rooms. There was so little time! He needed to act fast.


	6. Letting It Out

Two days. Two short, sharp, leering days left until the Royal Wedding. As Karigan lay on top of her tangled bed sheets, staring at her blank stone ceiling, she willed her tears away.  _I shall not cry, I shall_ not _cry!_

What was the point of getting up now when the future beyond the Solstice, the Big Day, seemed more bleak and terrible than anything she had ever encountered? She would rather face battle with Mornhavon again than attend the King's wedding. Subconsciously she rubbed the small scar on her shoulder left by his wild magic within her.

She hadn't slept, for the night had heralded dark dreams of battlefields and blood, of Zachary lying fallen and cold among his lifeless Weapons. Was this the future, or just an elaborate metaphor dreamed up by her mind to illustrate her loss? After all, once he was married, Zachary would be as good as dead to Karigan – off limits, out of bounds, as far away as the stars. Her honour would not permit anything else, though her heart yearned for at least some semblance of a life with him.

No, she must not think these thoughts; they brought nothing but misery. She was a G'ladheon, and a merchant, and though she still had not seen her father since discovering his patronage of the _Golden Rudder_ , she still had certain pride in being Stevic G'ladheon's daughter. She would hold her head up, do her duty, and hide whatever tears may leak out. Her face would be like carved marble, as blank as the stone ceiling still above her.

With an effort, Karigan rolled out of bed and dressed, resolving to act as normal. It became harder when she left her bedroom, however, when she saw all the bustle in the Rider common room. Almost every Rider was here, save for those, like Lynx, whom the King could not spare from other parts of the Kingdom. With all the new recruits coming through, there was more green in the common room than Karigan had ever seen, with almost fifty Riders already in residence, and still a few more to arrive. All outbound messages had been postponed until after the wedding - which every soldier, Weapon and messenger was to attend, dressed in best, to illustrate the King's power. That was why there were hasty preparations being made. Every Rider was busy polishing boots and tack and adding shine to saddles and bridles and brushing formal uniforms in order to have everything looking spotless for Zachary's wedding. There was a lot to do, and of course, every piece of leather and cloth had to be inspected by Ty, Rider Perfect, before it was deemed presentable.

On seeing this preparation, the happy, excited faces, and knowing what it was for, Karigan turned and dashed the other way, out of the Rider Wing and down two floors before Tegan had even said good morning.

There were hoofbeats in her blood, and a near-overwhelming panic that threatened to consume her as everywhere servants and soldiers moved purposely through the corridors, all busy with errands for the wedding. Even the smell of baking wafting up from the kitchens mocked Karigan as she tried to make her escape from the festivities. A simple ride on Condor wouldn't do; she'd have to come back. What she needed was a message errand.

* * *

"No."

"No?"

The Rider Captain's answer was emphatic. "No."

"But –"

"Rider G'ladheon." Karigan was abruptly quiet. The Captain sat imposing behind her desk, stern and stiff-backed. She didn't look like a woman about to shift any time soon. "You know very well that the entire available Messenger Service is to be present at the King's wedding. Those are orders. All errands have been suspended until after the Solstice, so there is nothing for you to take anyway." Captain Mapstone's look softened slightly, and she stood up and came round her desk. "I'm sorry, Karigan, but you will have to find some other way of working out your frustrations."

Karigan looked sharply at her Captain, suddenly suspicious. Did Mapstone know how she felt about the King? Had the King confided his own feelings in her? Karigan knew the two were close. Still, the refusal of a request for a message errand rankled more than the curiosity of a consoling remark from Captain Mapstone, and with a curt nod, Karigan left the office.

Drent would be happy to oblige her in taking out her dissatisfaction.

 


	7. Letting It Out pt 2

The dance of sword blades always served as a stress reliever. Zachary found comfort in the familiar rhythms, and sharpened his focus around the quick exchange of deadly steel. This early in the morning, there was hardly anybody on the training fields, and he was able to practise with Drent without the added stress of prying eyes from those of the garrison who wouldn't normally see this side of their King.

And today Zachary had enough stress to deal with. With only two days left until he became a married man, and even less time to put his plan into action, to save himself from the web that was closing around him, he needed every ounce of calm and diplomacy he possessed – not a state of mind that came readily to him when his stomach was knotting itself together with anxiety. Training with Drent was the only effective relief.

"Stop! STOP!" shouted Drent at last. Zachary finished the parry and lowered his sword. He was slightly out of breath. "Are you paying  _any_  attention at all!?" the training master demanded, the veins standing out on his great bull neck. "That's some of the sloppiest sword-work I've seen – the sort of slap-dash, namby-pamby blocking I would only expect from the rawest of recruits!"

Zachary knew better than to argue with the big man. King he may be, but Drent, charged with teaching Zachary how to preserve his life, was at liberty to shout at him until he was purple in the face. A colour he was fast achieving.

"Well!? What do you have to say for yourself?"

"I –" the King was spared from answering as Donal swept in from a few feet away to remind Zachary of his earliest appointment. The King nodded wearily and turned back to take his leave.

"Fine, take him," Drent grumbled. "He's no use to me in this mood anyway." The training master turned away in disgust, scanning the field for any other of his students to round up and intimidate. He spotted one in green, marching towards the equipment store, and seeming to be in a towering temper. Excellent.

"Gir- G'ladheon! Come here!" he hollered. Knowing the King's sensibilities when it came to the proper naming of his Riders, Drent thought it better to play along while still in his presence.

What happened next though, was very perplexing. The G'ladheon girl looked up and froze. Half-way along the training ground behinds Drent, Zachary turned at hearing the name, his heart jolting against his ribcage, as his gaze fixed on her. She was looking from the training master to the King, her eyes darting like a frightened rabbit's, and colour rising quickly in her cheeks. With a final glance at him, she made to bolt. Drent got there first.

He caught Karigan's arm in his thick, strong fingers and spun her round to face him. She was ready, glaring up at him with all her might. "Don't walk away when I give you an order," he barked.

"I only have to take orders from you when you're training me," she retorted. Why couldn't he just let her go so she could run in the opposite direction? Embarrassment was creeping up her face, burning her cheeks. It was typical that the King would be here, now, just when she needed to stop thinking about him and release some of her tension.

"You will not take that tone with me," Drent shouted, the level of his voice rising. Thankfully there was still nobody around. Nobody except the King. Karigan glanced in his direction to make sure he wasn't going to come over and tell Drent to back off. That was the last thing she wanted. Or was it? The King still confused her thoughts enough to make her undecided on the matter.

"Let me go," she said stubbornly. "I didn't even come here to train!"

Drent looked nonplussed for a moment. He recovered. "Why did you, then? It's a very odd direction to be taking for a walk." The grin on his face was ugly and triumphant.

"I –"

Zachary watched from afar as the argument developed between them, and a mixture of longing and guilt crept up inside his chest. She looked particularly beautiful in the morning sunshine, the sun haloing her hair like fire as she shouted back at Drent with all the vehemence of a demon. The so-called 'spunk' that had served her so well, the wildness that made her as untouchable as the wind. He sighed, unknowingly. He was also the cause of her current predicament, he was sure. Why else would she backtrack so quickly unless it was because she had wanted to avoid him? Oh, how he wished…

"Sire," Donal said in his deep voice. "Your meetings."

Reluctantly, Zachary turned away from the woman he loved, still so distant from him, and followed the Weapon to his study.

* * *

 

Xandis Amberhill paced swiftly after the Green Foot runner, uncharacteristically uncomfortable. The King had asked to see him. He hadn't said why, which seemed ominous, especially considering the early hour. Most nobles weren't even awake yet. Xandis himself, having been sneaking around as the Raven Mask the night before, should have been one of those nobles. Had Zachary somehow found out his involvement in Estora's kidnapping? He hated to think what the repercussions would be if that were the case.

The Green Foot runner stopped outside an imposing oak door, flanked by statue-like Weapons. The room beyond had become the King's new study after the old one had been given as a gift to the queen-to-be. Xandis had never seen inside it.

"Enter," came the voice from within. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Lord Amberhill entered.

Zachary was sitting behind a large desk topped with marble – moved from the previous study – and he was surrounded by all the trappings that marked him, not as a king, but as one who loved his homeland. Xandis recognised the landscapes as belonging to Hillander Province, and many of the artefacts displayed in the room were first rate specimens of Hillander craftsmanship. Luckily, though, the King himself, seated in his oversized armchair, wore neither the heather mantle nor the silver fillet which marked his status. Immediately Xandis' anxiety relaxed, replaced with curiosity. His shameful secret must still be safe. So what did the King want?

"Good morning, Xandis," Zachary said with a smile, his face impassive. "I'm glad you were able to join me this morning."

"Not at all, Majesty," Xandis replied. "I am an early bird by nature. I am merely curious as to why you summoned me." The King surveyed him, and Xandis wondered if he had been too bold. But then Zachary smiled.

"Please sit," he requested, indicating the chair opposite his desk. When Lord Amberhill had seated himself, Zachary began, his king's mask slipping over his face to cover the nervous excitement that had been growing in him since he had formed his plan.

"All pretence aside, Xandis, there are several things I wish to discuss with you; matters of a serious nature. But first of all, if I may ask, you are my second cousin, correct?"

Surprised by the question, Xandis did not answer immediately. "Once removed, Sire." Queen Isen was my grandfather's cousin.'

"Hmm," was all Zachary would say to that, stroking his beard. "I must say, though," he continued a moment later, "we were most fortunate that you came to Court. Were it not for your quick actions, Lady Estora might have been lost to us."

Xandis froze in his chair, fearing that he had been found out, after all. "I-I did all I could to help, Sire," he stammered out. "I'm just glad it was enough to ensure Lady Estora's safe return."

"I'm sure." Zachary could no longer contain his agitation. A nervous twitch would not be kingly, so instead he rose from his chair and paced over to his bookshelves, careful to keep his face turned from Lord Amberhill. "I must ask you now – are you in love with the Lady Estora?" He turned. Xandis looked stunned under the King's penetrating gaze.

"In… love, Sire?" His heart was beating far too fast. This was not at all what he had expected, least of all from the man who would be marrying Estora in less than forty-eight hours. It was true that his feelings for the lady had grown enormously; her spirit and humourous eyes had enchanted him, and the sometimes sombre look behind her eyes made him want to discover more about her character. If he examined the emotions that came to light when her face came to mind, when he remembered her voice speaking his name, they could be called love. But how would Zachary react if he said these thoughts out loud?

When he remained silent, Zachary seemed to shrink slightly, as though a great burden wore heavy on his shoulders. He crossed back to the desk and sank into the chair, eyeing Xandis mournfully.

"I ask because it is extremely important to Lady Estora's happiness, to yours, if my suspicion is true… and to mine." He paused. Xandis stared. He hardly dared believe what he was hearing. That Zachary would admit so openly – and to a minor noble, at that – that he was unwilling to go through with the political marriage arranged to keep the country together showed an amazing amount of trust, and no small amount of desperation. It must be true then that Zachary had fallen in love with somebody other than his bride to be. Suddenly, he wanted to prove that the King's trust had not been misplaced.

"Yes, Sire, I admit I have fallen for her."

Zachary nodded and sighed. "There is a clause in the marriage contract that states that Estora shall not be made to marry me against her will – if there is any reason for her to doubt her happiness as my wife. The terms are far more detailed than that, of course, but that is the general gist." Zachary allowed himself a wry smile. "I tell you this because I was watching, quite by accident, your exchange in the gardens yesterday, and from what I saw, Estora is also very much in love with you. She hides it well, but I am practiced at reading body language."

It was amazing how these words affected Amberhill. A shock ran through his body, elation such as he had never known before. Many women had loved him, but none that he had loved back. Could it be true?

"So you plan to break the contract, Sire?" he enquired, now anxious to help the King, who had given him the joyous news, and who was, after all, his cousin.

"The contract was made as a political alliance," replied Zachary gravely. "Even with Lord Coutre's newly discovered care for his daughter's wellbeing, if she refuses to marry me, it could cause ruptures between the throne and the eastern clans. Unity will be tenuous, and I am sure you are aware of the dangers of that, given that Second Empire now roams Sacoridia." He ceased his pacing. "What is needed is a way to break the contract between Estora and myself, and still maintain the profits of a political alliance with a husband of her choosing. Which is why I have brought you here, to ask if you are willing."

"Willing to do what, Sire?"


	8. Beneath The Sun

Laren Mapstone stood uneasily to attention outside the door to Zachary's chambers. Roused half an hour previously to hear dire news on the night before the Wedding was to take place, she was not comfortable, especially since Zachary, after giving her the ill tidings, had sent for Lord Coutre and asked to be left alone with him. He was up to something, and it set her on edge.

She had been summoned by a frantic looking Green Foot runner who had told her Worren, one of the most junior Riders, had returned from dispatch to the Wall with grave news. Despite the late hour, she followed young Erin to Zachary's private rooms, where Worren was stood in the outer study, standing seriously to attention while trying to surreptitiously gawp at his opulent surroundings. The King, dressed in a heavy heather-coloured robe over his nightclothes, stood on the opposite side of his desk, reading with a furrowed brow a dispatch marked with the winged horse seal of the Green Riders. He looked up when Laren walked in, and handed her the note.

She scanned the dispatch quickly, eyes narrowing with every word. It was grave news indeed.

"Thank you, Rider Thompsal, you are dismissed," she said briskly to Worren, who was started out of his staring. He gave a crisp bow, and exited. The monarch and the Rider Captain waited until the door clicked shut, then Mapstone let out a worried sigh.

"Well, what do you make of it?" the King asked.

Laren looked down at the dispatch again. " _Civilians seen crossing the Wall, led by an elderly woman_. I don't think there's any doubt –"

"Grandmother." Zachary's tone was grave. Laren gave an involuntary shudder at the name, Grandmother having tortured one of her Riders not six months before, masterminded the kidnap of Lady Estora, and nearly brought the entirety of Sacoridia crashing down. She recalled well Fergal Duff's frightening description of her aura.

"Of course," the King continued, pacing the floor behind his desk, "This means the threat from Mornhavon is greatly increased – given a powerful servant like Grandmother, it would mean that he would have the ability to return to full power." He stopped, and turned to gaze at her. The full weight of his meaning was carried in his eyes; the vision of his country burning.

"This message was sent at least a week ago, if not longer," Laren guessed. By now Grandmother and her flock would be deep inside the forest, hidden from any scouting party that went after them, and, helped by the power of Blackveil, they would be more than a match for Sacoridian soldiers.

"I know. We must hope that Rider G'ladheon's actions last year are enough for the present. Without Mornhavon, Grandmother will have wasted her journey."

"She will wait." Laren saw the light that had entered Zachary's eyes on speaking Karigan's name, but the crisis at hand made it brief, and she would not have caught it if she hadn't known it would be there. Such love was the last thing the country needed.

"And we do not have long," the King agreed. He looked weary, and Laren had pity. Already in his reign, Zachary had had to face attempts on his throne and his life, threats greater than many other Sacoridian rulers had ever had to face, and now he was standing on a precipice, looking over at what could turn out to be a repeat of the Long War, with no idea how to face it. A lesser man would have cracked.

But not Zachary.

"The course of action must be decided. Nothing to prepare can be done tonight, and with the wedding tomorrow –" Mention of his nuptials seemed to drain what little strength Zachary had left, and he sank into his chair, brow hidden behind his hands.

There was silence for what seemed like an age, before he seemed to come to a decision.

"Send for Lord Coutre."

Alarm bells rang in Laren's head. Mention of the father-in-law-to-be in the current context was almost as good as Zachary saying he was not going to marry Estora after all. She should have suspected his lack of a bad mood in the two preceding days. She tried to protest, to say that Lord Coutre could wait to be informed in the morning.

"No, Laren. Grandmother is a threat to Sacoridia, and that means to its King and Queen as well. Lord Coutre is fond of his daughter, and should know what danger she is in. Second Empire has already attempted to kidnap her, and that was before she was crowned. I will see Lord Coutre  _now_." He wore a face that would not be argued with, and the Captain's mouth snapped shut on her words. Luckily Erin, the Green Foot runner, was still outside, albeit sleepy.

So now here she was, waiting outside the door of the King's study like a naughty child sent to the headmaster's office, trying to listen through the aged oak panels while being scrutinised by two Weapons. It always unnerved her when Zachary did something without telling her, and now, what with news of Grandmother, she was more uneasy than usual.

Lord Coutre finally came out, looking grumpy and tired. Laren tried to read the lines on his face, but the Eastern Lord Governor's expression could be concealed almost as well as Zachary's. With a curt nod to the Captain, he trudged off down the corridor, back to his own chambers, the rich blue robe he wore forming an impressive train behind him.

Without waiting for an invitation, she barged back in. "What did you say to him?" she demanded. Zachary gazed at her with mild eyes, making her more suspicious. It was the same look he had worn when he had 'accidentally' loosened the paddock gate when he was nine and had let all the horses escape.

"I simply informed him of the situation, and reminded him of the terms of the contract," replied the King levelly. "Nothing as rebellious as you were thinking, I'm sure."

"I’m sure. Zachary –"

"It is late, and I am getting married tomorrow," he said with a slight grimace, cutting her lecture short. "I would greatly appreciate some sleep before then."

She had no choice but to leave.

* * *

 

The Solstice bell rang at first light, accompanied by the chanting of the priests as they offered veneration to Aeron. In her chamber, Estora woke to jitters of nerves, and allowed herself to be mutely dressed by her attendants, who cooed and clucked around her while she remained as quiet as the moon. She wondered how Zachary was feeling, as he too, would be dressing for his wedding. The thought set her trembling anew.

Down in Rider barracks, the finishing touches were being made to tack and uniform, the horses all gleaming as they stood by their Riders to await a final inspection by Ty and Captain Mapstone. Karigan had awoken numb at the first tolling of the bell, and said nothing while she saddled Condor, closing her ears to the banter of her fellow Riders as they attended their mounts. When the sun rose, all the soldiers, Weapons and Riders would be assembled on the Grand Parade that led to Sacor City's oldest monument, a great line of monoliths aligned exactly from north to south, with the two largest acting as a throne for the midsummer sun at noon. It was reserved for great state occasions – coronations, weddings, funerals. At all other times it was avoided as a place where the gods' eyes shone upon the world, and Karigan was uneasy about having to stand in such an arena for most of the day. Her father's old advice – don't attract divine attention – rang loud in her ears as she mounted and followed off in line behind Tegan.

All that could be heard as the sun climbed higher overhead was the occasional snort or stamp of a horse or the creak of leather as soldiers shifted their feet to work out the pins and needles. Zachary and Estora had started their procession at the bottom of the long hill, and their progress was marked by the cheers of the commonfolk who lined the roadside. Eventually they came into view, followed by a mass of Weapons with gear gleaming in the sun, the King dressed in elegant robes of black and silver, the colours of the Sacoridian banner, looking as regal and dignified as he ever did. By his side, her hand resting daintily on his, Lady Estora Coutre was resplendent in a dress of dyed silk in her clan colours, seeming to float on the breeze as if she were Aeron herself, the spun gold of her hair richly braided and set with sapphires. But she too kept a serious face, not the happy expression supposed to be worn by a bride.

A bead of sweat rolled down Karigan's neck, the layers of her formal uniform too much in the summer heat. Her neck and back ached with sitting upright for most of the morning, but she dared not turn her head or move for fear her mind would come back to where she was, and what exactly was happening. To keep the tears away, her mind strayed into the cool eaves of the Green Cloak, where she could gallop or walk as she willed, where there was no sun, no Solstice wedding, and no one to care if she cried or not.

Her eyes held steady and looked straight ahead as the royal couple passed, her face set as stone. The final irony was that the material for their attires came from the finest textile merchant in Sacoridia – her own father. Had she the courage to look down, her merchant's eye would have appraised them as goods of the highest quality. But she did not look down. Karigan's gaze kept carefully three feet above the King's head.

Zachary had seen Karigan. How could he not notice her, though she was clothed in green and among her fellow Riders? To him she glowed like the sun, more so than the high-bred lady walking next to him. His heart grew heavier with every step he took, and he kept the corner of his eye on Karigan, in case she should look his way. It saddened him that she did not, in these last moments of his bachelorhood, but it nearly broke his heart to see the expressionless visage she had put forth, as blank as ice, and to know that he was the cause of it.

They reached the dais, the honour guard fanning out on the steps beneath the great monoliths, a line of black separating Zachary and Estora from the assembled nobles and the soldiery beyond. Ahead lay their fate. It was now or never; the final move of intrigue. Here Zachary would either emerge victorious, or forever be dead to the world. He turned to Estora, who looked upon the twin thrones beneath Aeron's Seat with quiet trepidation.

"My lady," he said softly. "I have the feeling you do not wish to be here – that your heart and mind are far away with thoughts of somebody else."

She stared at him. "Oh, no, Sire, I –" she began furiously, blushing.

"You need not put on a brave face for me," he told her in the same gentle voice.

"I have always respected you, Zachary," she replied, halting slightly over his name, as though she feared its power. "But you are right. I am in love with somebody other than my future husband. But what good is it to say so now?" Her gaze dropped dejectedly.

He caught her by the chin, gently. "It is never too late. We are not yet married, and the contract is only binding if you willingly agree to be my bride." There was an almost desperate note to his voice now, as he rushed to say all that he needed to before it was too late. The priest had summoned them, and they walked up to their thrones as lambs to the slaughter.

"Are you willing when your heart belongs to somebody else?"

Estora could sense the earnest tremor in his voice. It was a side of him she had never seen before, far from the collected King Zachary respected by everyone he met. "But my father –"

"He can do nothing if you do not agree."

Estora bit her lip, her thoughts flying to Xandis, his grey eyes, the self-confident smirk and easy-going manner that was never a part of Zachary's character. She loved him almost painfully, a feeling not felt since F'ryan's death. And she knew she could not marry the King.

"I can still do nothing," she protested meekly. "If he does not return my feelings then I shall be cast off with nowhere to go! I will be disgraced. I still marry you willingly." The beginning of tears pricked the corners of her eyes.

"Fear not. He loves you as ardently as you do him."

"How do you know?"

Zachary smiled. "One man in love can always tell another."

* * *

 

Lord Amberhill was at this moment watching the exchange with bated breath. Zachary's plan – and his own happiness – swung on Estora's willpower. Strong woman that she was, Xandis knew she would choose to defy her father. He hoped she would.

He had also seen the Green Rider in question sitting to attention, looking like she had come more to a funeral than a wedding. The King had chosen to divulge his secret to Xandis, and the young lord admired him for it. He personally thought Karigan G'ladheon a good match for Zachary, a natural leader and a fiery beauty, though a tad too touched by the supernatural for  _his_ tastes.

The priest was now approaching to fasten the hands of the couple on the dais. Zachary was still talking. Time dragged on, slowing the collision of the one who would complete this marriage and those who would stop it. From her position atop Condor's back, Karigan, unable to help herself, watched the priest with mounting dread, cold gripping her limbs despite the heat of the day. If only she were invisible.


	9. Aftermath

From her position atop Condor's back, Karigan watched the priest with mounting dread, cold gripping her limbs despite the heat of the day. If only she were invisible.

The priest standing on top of the dais was almost upon Zachary and Estora, she still paralysed with the decision before her, raising his hands in acknowledgement of Aeron and chanting. He abruptly stopped, eyes fixed in horror on the spectacle unfolding among the gathered soldiery. There were deformations of the lines, gasps and shouts as the guards scrambled to get out of the way, making the sign of the crescent moon to ward off evil. One of the Green Riders and her horse had entirely disappeared.

It was a few moments before the Weapons regained control of the ranks – as swiftly as she had disappeared, Karigan G'ladheon returned to the visible world, and the commotion passed. She hadn't meant to do it, and she would earn a fierce reprimand from Captain Mapstone later, but wasn't that how the brooch worked?

This was the distraction Estora needed, the flash that broke her resolve. "My Lord," she whispered. "I feel that my heart lies elsewhere – I do not consent to be your wife." Her warm smile reflected the gratitude in his eyes.

"This wedding cannot continue!"

But it wasn't Zachary's voice that called out to the congregation. The priest of Aeron lifted his hands high, as though channelling the divine will of the Goddess herself.

"Whyever not!" demanded the irascible voice of Lord Coutre, who surged to his feet in the front row. "Zachary! You signed a contract! You  _will_  go through with this!"

"My Lord," replied the priest. "This is not a question of contracts or alliances. Aeron has sent an omen in the form of the disappearance of that Green Rider." He pointed to the commotion among the ranks, not noticing Zachary's smile.  _Karigan_. Whether by purpose or not, she had halted his wedding. "As a sign from the Heavens, it means the marriage cannot take place."

"But – but –"

"And as long as we are speaking of contracts, My Lord Coutre," added Zachary, rising from his kneeling position before the priest. "My marriage contract is null and void. Lady Estora finds herself unwilling to be my bride." The King grinned into Lord Coutre's murderous face. "Go to him," he whispered to Estora.

"Thank you, Zachary," she said, kissing his cheek.

Xandis Amberhill, still wondering whether the disappearing G'ladheon girl had been part of the plan, could only watch as the angelic figure of Lady Estora ran to him, her skirts trailing like the framing of divine winds. She landed in his arms, where she never thought she would be, and kissed him soundly. Someone was laughing as they spun together, and Xandis realised it was himself, not caring about the confusion around him, nor the angry Lord Coutre stalking in their direction through the crowds of nobles.

"This seems like the perfect opportunity for me to make a little announcement," Zachary boomed from the top of the dais. The sun had come to rest on the lintel of Her throne, framing Zachary's head with a halo of light. The priest looked awestruck, as did the rest of the congregation, who had never seen their King so regal.

"Sacoridia is entering a period in her history filled with great danger. The threats from Blackveil Forest and Second Empire increase daily, and it is likely that I may die without an heir, or, at least, one not old enough to rule at my death. We now declare, with his consent, that Lord Xandis Amberhill, Our second cousin, a man who has proven himself with services rendered to the Crown of Sacoridia, is to be Our heir until the time that We have produced a child of age to assume the throne. He is to rule as regent in Our absence and, should We be killed, he is to assume the Throne of Sacoridia."

The nobles were too stunned to speak, but word quickly passed down the line of soldiers from those close enough to hear: Zachary wasn't getting married! He was announcing his heir instead. Karigan refused to believe it, though inside her heart jumped and a blush roared across her cheeks.

"We present him now with the Ring of State to seal his position." The King pulled from his right hand a silver ring wrought with the crescent moon and firebrand of Sacoridia and held it up to the light. Xandis ascended the dais, humbled, sweating under the pressure of occasion weighted in thousands of eyes staring at him, fingering the dragon ring he already wore. The oath he swore passed in a daze, and when he finished kneeling and received the symbol of his regency, his only thoughts were for Estora.

"I suggest you go and gain Lord Coutre's good opinion," The King said, so that only Xandis could hear.

"I will, Sire."

* * *

 

It took weeks for things to return to normal. All the courtiers could buzz about was the new regent, all they did was try and win his favour, since now the only one with more power than Xandis Amberhill was the King himself. He wasn't interested, however. After asking Lord Coutre for permission to court his daughter, Xandis had spent every available moment with Estora, falling ever more deeply in love. Perhaps he should tell her his second identity?

Karigan had been relegated to stable duty. Not that she minded the smell of horses and hay, but most of the other Riders had been posted off to the far corners of the kingdom to pass on the bizarre news. Or else they had gone to round up the new Rider mounts and herd them back to Sacor City for breaking in.

She halted her sweeping. Zachary wasn't married. Her stomach flipped every time she thought about it. Then it settled again. She had been sure the King would send for her at some point, she had hoped he would, but more than a month had passed without any word from him.

"Something troubling you?" asked Flynn, the new groom hired to cope with the influx of new horses.

"No," she answered, surfacing from her reverie. "I'm just a bit tired, that's all." And she returned to her chores.

She was just setting up Condor's haynet when a small voice from the door called her name. A Green Foot runner.

"The King wishes to see you." It was all she could do not to sprint straight to his study – but that would not have looked proper, and instead she let the Green Foot runner lead the way, after tidying herself up, of course. One did not tread horse muck and straw into the royal carpets, after all.

Nerves sprouted the closer she got to the King's study, and multiplied exponentially when Fastion, on guard outside the King's door, gave her a small wink. She gulped.

"Leave us," Zachary commanded the Green Foot runner. He was busying himself with replacing several books on their shelves and did not look at Karigan. She didn't notice his hands were shaking slightly. She stood there uncertainly, willing herself not to become invisible  _again_.

"I hear you're being punished for causing such a commotion the other week," the King finally said, turning to her. "Mucking out, wasn't it?"

"Yes, Sire," Karigan replied. "I don't think it's entirely fair though."

"Oh?" he mused. "I thought it was the privilege of a commanding officer to ascribe punishments when they saw fit."

"To be honest, Highness, I wasn't the only one interrupting the proceedings," she said frankly, looking him straight in the eye. All her fear of him had gone. “But I was the only one who did it _by accident_.”

Zachary smiled. "Indeed. Pleas, sit."

He sat down, too. And stood straight back up again. Karigan had never seen such behaviour in him before, and she had the feeling she knew what was coming next – or, at least, she hoped so, but whether it terrified or comforted her was difficult to say.

"Karigan." Zachary's voice dropped to an earnest level. "Karigan, you must know the reason I asked you here was not just to speak about your punishment from Captain Mapstone." Heart hammering as he knelt beside her, Karigan nodded. "And I know that, last time I gave you these –" he pulled a small, intricately carved box from the desk, a box Karigan recognised. "You returned them to me." He tentatively stroked her cheek as the box was pressed into her hands, as if she were a wisp of wind that could vanish at any instant. "So full of fire; so full of pain." He swallowed. "I’m sorry for that. I remember what you said."

Karigan was finding it hard to breathe. Inside the box, cushioned in velvet, was the silver hairset that had been a gift once before. She knew what Zachary's words meant now.

"Sire, I –" she began.

"Call me by my name."

She inhaled and looked at him. "Zachary. I cannot accept this gift."

"You know what I mean by it," he urged. "A wedding gift – I'm asking you to marry me, Kari."

"I know." She laid hand on his cheek. "I know. But I am a commoner, a messenger – nothing more."

"You are so much more to me."

"But to everyone else, I will be seen as a usurper, unworthy –"

"I will strike down anyone who dares utter such a thing," he growled passionately. "You are my love, worthy in every sense of the word," he whispered, clasping her face, smoothing away the tears that had choked her throat and traced down her cheeks. "And, with war approaching, I will need a Queen who can defend herself, who can lead. None of the high-born ladies at court possess such skills, as I pointed out to Captain Mapstone." He grinned.

"You talked to the Captain?" she asked, shocked.

"Of course. She was opposed to it, of course, but I reminded her that it was my decision."

Karigan laughed. Imagining the Captain being put in her place was something she would have liked to see. Even  _Drent_  was scared of her, for Gods' sakes.

"Your laugh is more music to me than anything else," he murmured, kissing her hand.

"You can stop being like that right now." She grimaced.

"Like what?"

"All mushy and poetic, it's awful.”

"Very well, I shall never pay you a compliment again." Could this small exchange mean what he thought it meant? "But come, tell me, what is your answer?" Her eyes dropped, and she bit her lip. Taking his hand, she kissed the knuckles, feeling the calluses on his swordmaster's palm. "Is that a yes?"

She sighed. "I'm still a Green Rider."

"I release you from your service."

"No, Zachary, you don't understand," she replied, touching the brooch that he couldn't quite see but which glowed with warmth at the brief touch, as if in encouragement. And she explained that she was bound to the messenger service until the brooch released her – not mentioning that usually death came first.

"So it's a no?" All his dreams, all his plans for the day she would finally be his and he could present her to the world as the Queen of Sacoridia were falling through his hands like dust to be scattered on the wind. That was it, he would never marry now.

"No."

He looked up, hope brimming anew.

"Call it… a promise. When the messenger service releases me, if you still feel the same for me, I will marry you," she said.

"My feelings for you will never change, my love," he whispered. Her bashful smile lit up the entire room. And he leaned in, and Karigan did what she had only dreamed of before, in the deep recesses of the night when nobody could see – she shared a kiss with the man she loved.

**Author's Note:**

> I first published this waaaaay back on ff.net, during the then-interminable wait between The High King's Tomb and Blackveil. It was originally a oneshot, because I love me some angst and star-crossed mutual pining is the best kind of angst there is. Then it actually grew into a story, and I rolled with it.


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